Old Farmer Halvard
by gkmoberg1
Summary: A short story that both leads in to and out of the novel Let The Right One In. The story contains two threads which eventually converge.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a story consisting of two threads, which combine at the story's end. I wrote this story while experimenting with writing. I wanted to see how well I would do at writing from different points of view and in different styles. You'll see that pretty quickly as you read along. The Oskar & Eli thread is a good adventure but is written in a lighthearted manner. The Norwegian thread is where I was trying to push myself to see what I could do. The tone for this second thread varies. Regardless, I hope you enjoy this story. Please leave me a note!**

**Thanks to my proof-readers and reviewers: Siv, Pete and Clubby! You guys are great.**

**...**

_**Old Farmer Halvard**_

**[This story was first posted by me, gkmoberg1, in July 2011 on the forum "We, the Infected."]**

**...**

**1882, Norway**

_Trykk... _(tap...)

_Trykk_

_Trykk_

The old, old farmer, Halvard, opened one eye. It was the dead of night but starting at this time of year it was always night.

_Trykk_

He knew who it would be. It would be the little fairy that visited him and the farm on these northern Norwegian months of endless darkness. Normally she would climb in through the shutter all by herself and snuggle in beside him. But on the first days of her annual return she would always knock first and seek permission to enter. He didn't know why she always asked. It had become a ritual. For the last forty-three years she had come annually like this. He had grown to look forward to it. It was a delight to be awakened to. It meant that mid-November had arrived, a milestone on the approach to _Jul_.

Slowly he righted himself. He placed his two aging feet onto the cold wooden floor and set up straight. Gah, the little room was cold! His little place on the farm was always cold. He no longer lived in the main house. Two decades ago he had passed the farm along to his sons, as his father had once done for him - and his brothers - and he had moved into the tiny grandparent house, the _føderådstue_.

His bones ached. He extended a finger through the closed shutter.

"And who might it be at this hour?" He asked, pretending that he did not know.

"I was about to ask the same of you!" It was that beautiful little voice. Same as last year. Same as the year before that. Always the same.

"But I have gone and asked you first. So you must tell me. Who is it that comes knocking at my shutter in the depths of night, over the snow, and through my _gårdstun _(farmyard)?"

"It is I. The same I who visited you last winter."

"And how is it that you have found your way again to my house? And why come you here? Why not the visit my sons at the _våningshus _(main house)?"

She giggled as she always did.

"Because I know the way. And because I find the _låve _(hay barn) too lonely and the _fjøs _(livestock barn) too crowded."

"Then, yes, you are welcome here, dear little sprite who always arrives in the dark, sings to me in the dark, curls up by my side and yet disappears by the first light of fading winter. You, dear, are welcome - as welcome as anyone could ever be. Come in dear child, dear pixie, and get yourself out the night's cold."

And using his arthritic old skinny fingers he pushed open the shutter and in she climbed.

For the next months she told him, nightly, stories of her year. She told him of the places she had visited and the adventures she had undergone. He would always doze off to sleep while she spoke and sang. And he would awake to find her gone. But he also knew that while she was there for those few precious months that she was nearby. By day she was not ever to be seen. Yet the old, old farmer had figured her out. Not much got by an old Halvard. He new that by day she hid up into the roof of the hay barn, up behind a makeshift weatherboarding that he made sure to keep well reinforced - he wanted her to have some warmth. And he never disturbed her during the day, always fearful she would spook and flee forever.

He had never learned her name. That was part of their magic. And he had never told his sons about her. They would know him to be crazy from such a story! So it was fast his secret and he would never tell.

And she had never told him the truth. That too was part of their magic. And she never told him the entire story of her life. That would destroy more than the magic. The truth was her terrible secret! And she could never tell him. But this yearly visit filled her heart with love. Love for him and the love he gave back to her. For this time each year she could sing her songs quietly in the night to a gentle aging soul and he would listen endlessly to hear her stories.

She knew this could not go on forever. He was getting so old and frail; she could tell. She wondered "This year, 1882, could it be the last?" Of course last year she had thought the same. And the same the year before that. Always the same.

She hugged him in the darkness, told him about warm seaports to the south and lands where folks stayed up late and laughed loud far into the night. Eventually she and he became quiet and both fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**1982, Kiev**

A slushy wet mix of snow and rain fell about the central square. It gathered on the decorative awning above Oskar's head, melted and then ran in rivulets down along the fabric. There was a hole somewhere close above him.

_Drip_

_Drip_

_Drip_

He held out his hand and interrupted the drizzle. It was ice cold. He let it splash and pool in his palm and then roll off onto the sidewalk.

_Drip_

Tonight he was waiting at the curve of Maia Zhytomyrs'ka, where it fed into the Kiev's main square. Oskar had tried here several times. He would be here all night if need be.

_Drip_

He shifted his weight, watched the passersby and stayed hidden in the shadows.

Paris had been fun! Nights of warmth and joy. He and Eli had found the city to be full of adventure. They had gone to the theater, seen movies, explored the catacombs and even admitted themselves to the Lourve for some afterhour sightseeting. (Setting off the gallery alarms had been far too much fun!)

His favorite memory was of them standing at a viewing point of the Eiffel Tower, watching the shimmering lights of huge city.

"Stunningly beautiful, right?"

"Yeah. Stunningly… And no need to pay the entrance fee."

They giggled and flew further up into the tower's levels.

Then had come Zurich, Innsbruck and Vienna. All good stops. All good adventures. He wanted to send a postcard to his mom but ... maybe later.

Life in Warsaw took on a different flavor. The farther east they traveled, the less comfortable he felt. The food (snicker, snicker) was good - that was not the problem. It was something in how the inhabitants approached life. There was nothing wrong with it. Their ways, he said, were new to him. They took some getting used to. Eli agreed. And the languages... He was catching on, but it was slow going.

Trouble had arrived in Kiev. Their first evening was the nearly the end of them both. Maybe it had been!

In all the other places they had been to, they agreed to meet in the city center should they ever get separated. This had been a good idea - Eli's - and had saved them once in Zurich. But here they hadn't been but a few minutes out of the frieght train when things flew apart.

When "their kind" meets up with another, there is no radar that triggers into action. No, it is like a chill that runs down behind your neck. And that is what happened. Somewhere in that trainyard, unseen, they had been detected. Both felt it at the same time. And then it was following them. They could not see who it was but knew he or she was there. As they made their way into the slushy city streets, it was staying with them. Eli started to look up at the rooftops. They hurried. As the feeling continued. They panicked. When they got to a crowd gathered near a restaurant they escaped indoors. Oskar was so certain Eli had been right behind him as he entered and ducked right. But he was wrong! Perhaps deadly wrong. And since that night he had neither seen nor sensed his friend.

The months passed. He picked a new spot each night and waited. For Eli he would wait forever. Eli would never leave him. And Eli was his world - he was going nowhere until they were together.

What troubled him was that he had also not felt the presence of that ... other, whomever it was. He pondered becoming the hunter himself but was afraid and did not know where or how to start. Without Eli by his side everything was strange and he had to do it all, everything, by himself.

The night wore on.

_Drip_

He could see without problem through the rain and snow. If Eli was nearby he could not sense it.

_Drip_

He shifted his weight. For Eli he would wait forever, he told himself.


	3. Chapter 4

**1941, Norway**

"Bestefar fant jeg din oldefar!" ("Grandfathter, I found your great-grandfather!")

"Oh! Yes, you are right. Let's get the blanket out."

"Do we have to stay long? It's cold..."

"Just for a short while, Aldine. Come sit and we'll play that game you thought of last night."

Grandpa spread the blanket with her help. The sky and stars shone above them. At long last the days of darkness had arrived and grandpa could at long last bring this dream to fruition. Little Aldine was too excited to sit still and danced around the family graves. Down below the gentle hillside where they were sitting they could see the family farm. Electric lights shone from the windows. Grandma was making hot cocoa for when they came back.

They sat in the darkness and played 'Where Am I now, Grandpa?" as she scampered about. Her bright white mittens tended to give her away, but Grandpa wasn't going to let her know. He would smile and feign having a terribly hard time finding her. To his immediate left was the stone marking his beloved great-grandfather Halvard. "1885" was written at its base. How he missed that kind old man, even after all this time. Some emotions never fade.

Since the days of old, old Halvard electricity had arrived. And indoor plumbing! Cars too, of course. And now they had radio that actually worked. He knew great-grandfather would have hated it all! Such was his ways. Electricity had been forbidden at the farm as along as he had lived. Halvard would have _nothing _to do with it.

This last year had been hard on everyone... Russia had been invaded by the Germans this summer. The world was so fraught with war and death. Beloved Norway had been overrun the year before. What a horrible age this had become. In these ways he was glad great-grandfather was not here. The sorrow would kill him outright.

"Where ammmmm I nowwwww?" she whispered from nearby in a ghost-like voice.

"Oohhhh, I am looking!..." "Oh, I see you over there!"

"Noooooo, no! You guessed the wrong way," she giggled.

"Hmmmmmm" and he looked about.

...

A while later they had given up the game. Aldine sat in his lap, helping him count stars and deciding which ones were twinkling he most.

"Can we go back now?"

"But I have someone for you to meet. I do!"

"But you said that last night. And we sat here until gramma's hot cocoa was cold..."

"Ohhh, I think we're doing well this evening."

"Grampa! You kept me here bored last night and told me about elves. I asked my older sister and she said you were full of little stories."

"Oh, is that so?"

"mhmmmmm" she pretended to be cross with him.

"Well, I have someone for you to meet. But you have to be quiet. And I have to ask you a very special promise."

"Okay. I will be quiet. And okay, I will make a promise... maybe."

"Oh good! Well, then, here is the promise: that you never tell until your days too are nearly over."

"Grammmpy! What kind of a promise is that?"

"Hmmmm, it is the same promise my great-grandfather made with me, here, long ago on a night like this. And I then was ten years old, just like you now."

"Ohhhh, well, then, whatever. Okay."

"You promise?"

"Yes. DIdn't I just say that?"

"Yes, darling, you did."

"Grampy you really need to listen better."

"Mmmmmm."

"Okay. So let's go. I'm bored."

"Ssssh."

"Oh grampy."

"Ready?"

"To go? YES!"

"Noo..."

"What then?"

"Over there to your right. Look carefully, but don't move. Just sit and try to be calm."

And Aldine looked. And she saw a little face. And a little body, fully stretched out in the grass, head propped up with two hands, looking at them. She was no more than a meter away! The smile of bittersweet joy which broke slowly to a mischievous grin was something Aldine would never forget.

"Oooh!"


	4. Chapter 3

**1982, Kiev**

A nightly dance was being played above Oskar's head. Eli would start each evening by locating Oskar and then taking up a position nearby. Then the third presence would do the same, narrowing steadily in on Oskar. Eli, although not understanding why, seemed to be able to detect this other presence without Oskar being similarly aware. Could this be a talent that develops over time, Eli wondered? If so, Oskar, then, is too new to the game. Unfortunately for Eli there was no one to ask. Learning the skills of vampirism had been often learned the hard way - as in right now.

The third presence had proven to be another of their kind. Eli had seen him on occasion. And it was indeed a "he"! It was a middle aged man, solidly built, who moved with incredible stealth and agility. He was a deadly panther in Eli's mind and Eli was certain he was no match. The game, then was to remain concealed. The panther would move slowly in at Oskar but would then feel Eli's presence and back off. Eli's only hope was to remain unseen. He deeply felt that were this threat to see him and realize he was so small, their demise would shortly follow.

The night he and Oskar had become separated was a horror he hoped to forget. The presence, at that point entirely unseen, had chased Eli up over rooftops and far across Kiev. Oskar had dashed into a crowd at a restaurant but Eli had no idea which one. Several days later Eli had started to find Oskar in the city center and luckily had arrived at the same time as the other. That is when the nightly dance had begun.

Many nights the dance was played as a slow circling. The panther was using Oskar at the bait. To find Eli was the panther's first goal. Fortunately whatever thoughts drove the panther they were chiefly defensive. A direct attack on Oskar would force Eli's hand. But so far the creature was unwilling to do so and was instead using Oskar as the lure to keep Eli nearby.

An odd observation Eli had made was that this other presence never flew. Eli spent the evenings dancing roof to roof, streaking over darkened city blocks, using his wings and youthful agility. But the other seemed earthbound. It might be matter of wing strength versus body mass, he pondered. But the other only ever seemed to leap from roof to roof with fearsome catlike grace. So there was one advantage, slim as that might be.

March slid into April. April slid into May. The snow came less often. Nightly the dance was played. Eli was becoming spent out. He was not eating as he should. Oskar was unreachable yet so close at hand. Eli saw himself reflected in window of an upper floor as he flew by. The panther was moving somewhere behind him. He could see his own hair was entirely given over to gray. This was not good and he feared he would soon make a mistake. And a mistake where the panther caught him would be the end for him and then Oskar.


	5. Chapter 5

**1961, Norway**

Late on a starry night in 1961 old, old farmer Halvard sat wrapping himself around a confused and unconsolable child. His wife Arnbjørg tried too to help along with many of the extended family. Together they looked with concern down the slope at the farmyard, the barns and the houses. Their concerns were as well with their family - their descendents - who lived there. Lights twinkled from windows and smoke curled from chimneys but nothing else moved. Halvard reached within the child's spirit best he could, from where he was, and blew all the courage and strength he could into the tormented elf whom he had loved so dearly in life.

But the little one remained alone, or so she thought, in the bare family grave plot on the hillside above that inland Norwegian farm. The night moved on gently but the little soul remained wretched through every passing moment.

Eventually she felt his breath. She did not feel it directly but rather she felt a bit of restoration within herself. She rose on more solid legs. If nobody was going to come meet her this year, she was going to stand to meet this. And now that she was up, feeling oddly warmed, a plan came to mind and she set off at once to implement it.

Arnbjørg hugged her husband all the more as she watched the elf ripen from her sorrowful state, stand, take those couple of steadying breaths and with a step of confidence, grow wings and streak down to the farmyard and sail into the old main barn. "Oh, you are such as rascal. Do you know how hard I had to pretend in life not to know what you were doing with her all those years?" she asked. Halvard did not need to answer; they both new. Elias has always been their unspoken extra child.

So too they both knew the larger truth to all things that concerned the little elf. While a lesser soul might recoil and never recover from learning such truth, their souls were instead touched and impressed by the humanity she succeeded in retaining. And yes, they were also very distraught by the carnage she was forced to claim on mankind. But from the separation where they now existed - one that stands apart from the mortal coil that holds man and woman fast to existing within and climbing along the invisible fabric of time and space - their larger picture of things brought them to bring pity and love to her, her cursed existence and all those whom she encountered.

The little elf soon reappeared. Hands full and clasping a leashed goat she made her way back up to the family plot. Once there she laid all her findings alongside Halvard's marker and then decorated. The goat, at first confused to be brought at night, soon settled into grazing at what little could be found on the cold ground. The night wore on and the elf was delighted with herself. Daybreak revealed an odd construction of old farm equipment, lunge lines, tack and harnesses - all arranged haphazardly about Halvard's marker. The goat had been returned to its stall in the darkness and the farm awoke as normal.

Three weeks later Aldine, now thirty years old, found the mess up on the family plot and broke into tears. She didn't cry for having missed her annual rendezvous with the little darling - that she had done weeks ago. No, she cried for joy at knowing the little one had been here and had wrought such mischief. She wished aloud that next year come soon, wished the little pixie well and blew a kiss into the wind.


	6. Chapter 6

**1982, Kiev**

Three days of heavy spring rain turned the Kiev area to mud. Nobody ventured outside - not even those who prefer the night and don't mind cold. The result: It gave Eli much needed rest. And with rest came the chance to think and with some thinking came a plan.

A toy store was broken into. (An investigating security guard didn't look so good the next morning.) Things were knocked about. A lot of Lego was scattered about and later it looked like a good deal of time had been spent assembling a crazy looking small town, complete with cars and a little bridge. But only one thing was taken: a ...

"A Rubik's Cube?" Oskar exclaimed on the first night back downtown at Kiev's main square. Central Kiev was a drippy mess. Pooled water was found in all the streets, and few people were out and about. Yet here on a park bench at the location he most preferred to wait there was their most cherished toy. It was too much to be a coincidence. He wandered over.

The Cube was littered with writing. On every edge of every piece of the Cube was a written word. All of it was in Eli's old script handwriting. There was no denying it! And ... this meant Eli was alive! And nearby! Oskar about screamed in joy but realized this discovery could not be an accident - Eli had not left it here by mistake. So he swallowed his scream, buried the Cube in his pockets and slunk away. The first dawning of what was going on started to awake in him as he sneaked back to his daytime home. When he got there his racing head had begun to fill with paranoia. If this Cube was to be what he had come to think it might be - a message - what else was going on?

He chose not to reenter the building where he had been staying. Instead he made away to a new one. Finding his way into the roof of a multistory office building, he descended down through an elevator shaft and made a new "home" for himself at its base. Then Oskar set himself at last, and only starting then, to examining the cube.

...

Oskar worked at the Cube for hours. It had been left completely undone and - he guessed - it needed to be solved. Frustration grew and he made no progress. Worse, he had to keep himself from rubbing away the fine script Eli had placed on every edge.

Hours later he was mad. Eli could do this but in their time together he had yet to master lining up these colors and edges.

"Gah!" Had this not been from Eli he would have flung it as hard as he could at the cement walls of the elevator shaft and enjoyed watching the pieces explode across the little area. He could imagine the rainbow colored pieces shattering outward and back at him.

He woke up near noon the next day and continued. Once again he knew nothing but frustration. Oh, he could not fail Eli here!

Then an answer came to him. Well, it was not the answer Eli would be proud of but it would work. Grasping the cube in his hands he extended claws and ripped it open. Then working hastily, for now he had a plan, he reassembled the pieces so as to directly solve the Cube!

Success.

He started to read. It was all nonsense. Every way he held it there was nothing but small sets of words, all in their native Swedish, but nothing came of it. A panic started to set in. He started to sweat. What if he misunderstood?

"What I am I supposed to do Eli?"

He put the cube down and looked about. No, he had to figure this out. He picked it back up and read the cube again from all sides and in all ways. The jumble of words seemed to be endlessly nothing more than a chaos he could not figure out.

He cried and then curled up in a corner with the Cube clutched tight to his chest.

...

Oskar spent the next night at the bottom of the elevator shaft. He continued to look at the Cube, sensing that figuring this out was paramount to ever again seeing Eli. And although that did not make sense as yet, he felt an urgency that worsened as the night's hours passed. This Cube had now been his for 24 hours yet he had made little progress. Or so he thought.

"Oskar" + "go" + "hide" He found written across adjacent squares of the solved cube. This was repeated three times across the cube's six sides. He gathered this could not be by accident. And since he was already in hiding, he decided it would be best to stay in hiding.

He started to write out some of the fragments. There were hundreds to look at as he looked at cube from all directions ...

"Eli, where am I to start?"

Some messages seemed to stick out beyond the nonsense. Since the cube was three squares by three squares in size, the messages were all three words long. He wrote:

"nice" + "turnip" + "glue"

"I" + "love" + "Berlin"

"make" + "Sweden" + "flag"

"Decem" + "ber" + "monkey"

Examples of sides that made no sense at all were things like

"Novem" + "twenty" + "three"

"pretzel" + "Norway" + "Kiev"

"meet" + "five" + "ten"

"bear" + "morse" + "Paris"

"bench" + "Vienna" + "away!" (yes, "away" with an exclamation point!)

"Septem" + "leave" + "bench"

"yes" + "house" + "six" (Eli had underlined the "yes")

He questioned whether it was possible to solve the cube in a different manner but concluded against this. This was the one and only solution for a solved Cube.

"Okay, I have to concentrate on what does make sense. I don't really know any December monkeys, and I don't need any nice turnip glue, and Eli has never mentioned loving Berlin... that leaves make Sweden flag as the only thing that could possibly make sense."

He looked about and pondered what he could use to make a flag. But then, ummm, what would he DO with a flag? It seemed rather pointless.

Ah, then it occurred to him there must be at least a Swedish consulate in Kiev. He had no idea where it would be, but he supposed he could go find it. They would likely have a flag. Yes! ... But if they have a flag there's no need to make another. Plus, they likely don't need him stopping by to make them one. "Probably not," he laughed. But the idea of the consulate stuck with him. Maybe their flag would have another clue for him? Ehhhh... nah.

The night wore on.


	7. Chapter 7

From the diary of Aldine N. Estrem

30 November 1966

My little darling has come and gone for this year. She was here for about two weeks, which is one of the longest visits I have known with her. May our Lord bless her and keep her safe until next year.

And may the Lord watch over her in another way. Across my fifteen years - blessed fifteen years - of motherhood I have woken up to many things. I pray to You and hope You are there to listen: In the years of my youth and until I was a mother with my first born, I confess I was a child. I was a child in my actions, thoughts and words. I was naive to the world's suffering and hardly, if ever, considered the emotions and well-being of those around me. Lord, forgive me these shortcomings. I ask Your Forgiveness in what I have likely missed in all whom I have known. I pray I have not let you down in the Work you have laid before me.

I find the rearing of my children has rebuilt me into the one that kneels here before You. At the edge of this bed tonight I look back at the years for which I have maintained this journal of my life - And I see a lifetime's landscape of Your blessed hand. It is a saga of adventures, mishaps, sorrows and joys. I see across these pages many progressions in myself and others. Of these progressions there are many that would likely escape me were it not for this long yarn of my days.

Of my little other darling I find I have finally awakened to something that may well have been there all along. Now that it has broken through to my conscious mind I cannot let it go. My waking thought today was of her and I was led back to yesterday's pondering of how little I know about her and the disappointment I have in myself - for all things I hold in relation with her. Witness dear Lord my shortcomings and help me set these things straight.

Her first evening this year with me was surely a sign. She sat in my lap for hours, her arms wrapped around me tight. I sang to her and talked of my year and did not think to ask much about hers. Forgive me, dear child. I have been blind to what your life must be like. It has taken motherhood, and too many years of it, to awaken me to concerns and realities that I should have taken up and acted upon years ago. You said "I am so alone" and I did not realize how deep that Void must be. You have told me so little of years gone by but I know from records here, other diaries that I have come across, how long you have blessed this family. In the end all these pages written by hands of my family reveals it is Us whom have been given a miraculous gift all these years and I fear you -our gift- stands more frail and perhaps in more peril than we ever knew. That night's "I am so alone" was your statement of heartbreak, a yawning of decades that I fear is like a chasm to you. I am deeply sorry that I did not begin to see this before. It has taken me, an old fool, too long to see it.

My misunderstanding began when I was very young. My grandfather introduced me to you when I was ten. Since then you have been one of the greatest joys of my life. You are my yearly pixie who dances in gayly from above and streaks about darkened pastures - lit up solely by star and moonlight. How magically your graceful wings have danced for me in that dim light! You and I have held hands, skipped and sang for hours. You would tell me how you used to do the same things with my grandfather. And I would look over at him, oh how I miss him, and wonder what you meant. Finally - I understand.

I about died of grief the year I scared you away. In the midst of our annual reunion when I was thirteen I stumbled over you in the darkness and we both were sent sprawling across grave markers and into the wrought iron fence that surrounds the family area. We were seeing who could race first around the enclosure. That you disappeared and left me to wait until next November to see you again was a bitter experience. I, in my self-centered view of all things, was sore at you all year for leaving me. I could see nothing but my little view of the world. Will I ever learn your side of that night? I will forever remember your breath becoming hoarse as you lay beneath me when we came to a stop - my bloodied lip dripping onto your face. How quickly you shot out from under me, screamed with a voice of anguish and pain, one that I have seldom heard if ever since. You tried to fly off. I watched in fear as I heard that scream yet again from you. I saw you crash into our lower field. I thought I had killed you. Grandfather, who needed to get me attended to, kept me from running after you - with my cut up face and badly skinned knees and elbows. When I was carried in through the porch door I was a bloody mess. I never got to tell you how my mother set me straight to scrubbing all my clothes clean and did not let me finish until all was set to right. What happened to you that night? You never say. (Nor ever did my grandfather. He went back, I remember, to check on you. But his diary omits that night and he never spoke a word about it.)

I missed you that year with all my heart.

And I missed you entirely the year my third child was born. Childbirth kept from getting out to see you. It was my joy of joys a month later to find that mess you left behind up on Halvard's marker. When I could finally get up and about I found what you had been up to ... you are an eternal elf of mischief and fun. Thank you for not leaving me, us, that year.

I have come now to the worry that set me this evening to writing. A mother's view, at long last.

My dear child, you are at the edge of yourself. I only see it now. And worse, I can only write about it here and not take action until I see you again. Now that I am awake and remembering across twenty-five years of our annual time together, I know - you cannot hide it from me - that that your joy for life is fading. I do not know what is weighing you down but the effect is clear. If there is anything I can do of significance yet in this lifetime it will be to save you. I just don't know from what. And I don't know what to do. But you -our family gift- needs a return from us, from me who loves you dearly, for all you have given to us with your annual presence.

Go safely little one, I shall pray daily for you.

Lord, help me with this other child. Let me make her mine if there is no other for her. Help me protect her and bring her back to the little one whom in my youth I danced with in rapture. I pray all this to You.


	8. Chapter 8

**1982, Kiev**

Oskar shot straight upright when he realized the answer. He had been daydreaming while poking about the floor of the elevator shaft that had been his home for the past two days. "A Swedish flag," he cried out! "Of course, make a Swedish flag!" He flung himself onto the Cube. His mind was a whir of excitement as he extended claws and broke apart the Cube. Then with set determination he arranged the pieces before him on the concrete floor and hastily assembled a Swedish flag – yellow cross on blue background. To make the flag he used the yellow center piece and then the four available surrounding yellow center side pieces. For the four corners he used the four available blue corner pieces.

"Hmmm" he said, delighted, as he put the last piece into place. He read the carefully arranged nine pieces. He read them from all directions. It was all nonsense. Nonsense! All of it!

A day ago he would have been crushed by this. But now, renewed and having gotten some sleep he tore eagerly into the problem. He began by swapping around the corner pieces. Then he swapped the center edge pieces back and forth. He turned the center piece in hopes of lining things up. The effort took an hour and he spent the time crawling about the floor, overtop the nine pieces, focusing on finding what Eli must have left him.

"one" + "two" + "three" fell into place first. This was the top row. He trusted this would give him an orientation on how to solve the rest. It also removed three pieces from the possible combinations for solving the rest of the flag.

"I" + "love" + "you" became the center row. He smiled. This was the pair of phrases they had used when he was learning how to fly. Eli would count off "one … two… three…" in encouragement and he would respond with "I love you" as he dared to drop off of whatever they were standing on. It was said in silliness but he did say it just in case he hit the ground too hard. Ha, fortunately that had never happened.

Only three pieces, the bottom row, remained. They assembled into

"add" + "Halvard" + "flag"

Well, that was not what he was expecting!

Halvard, he knew, was a farmer from long ago. Eli had told him how Halvard and his descendants had been one of the dozen or so families across Scandinavia that Eli regularly visited. Nowadays that number was dropping. Changing attitudes, distrust, deaths, sold farms – slowly across time Change was taking away this extended set of families. The family of Halvard in northern Norway had been her closest and she savored it the most.

Oskar's confidence was boosted.

Okay, time to make a Norwegian flag. He grabbed pieces, red and white, and set off. He arranged them and busied himself as before. He worked on trying to find a first sentence that would let him similarly eliminate three tiles and therefore make solving this flag easier.

After half an hour it hit him: he had the wrong colors in front of him. "Gahh!" he yelled – at himself. Red and white made the flag for something like Denmark or Switzerland, not Norway. Cursing at himself for wasting time, he grabbed up the red and blue pieces and started again. This time blue was the cross and red was the background.

But then he stopped. The message had been "add" a Halvard flag, not "make" a Halvard flag. He backtracked. He reassembled the Swedish flag as before. Then he examined how each side might possibly fold over, leading to what would be the face of an adjacent cube side. Ahh, if only he were doing this correctly instead of cheating by having broken apart the Cube. He found what he was looking for. Yes, a Norwegian flag could be made by continuing from this solved Swedish flag. And, as a bonus, it gave him three pieces of this new cube face already lined up… or so he hoped.

"Septem" + "ber" + "six" was the first little phrase to be figured out. He was not entirely sure yet if this was correct, but if he was right, it also gave him "meet" and "Zoo" as the first words of the other two lines. This was because the first little phrase gave him an orientation – he trusted – on how to assemble the flag's nine pieces. The edge pieces he was starting from, the ones that were also part of the still assembled Swedish flag, were "meet" + "Septem" + "Zoo".

"meet" + ? + ?

"Septem" + "ber" + "six"

"Zoo" +? + ?

He pondered the significance of the word "Halvard" as he continued. Anyone could have found and taken the Cube from that bench in the main square. Anyone then could have solved it. And so then anyone could have found the "make Swedish flag" message and then done exactly that. But there was almost no way anyone except he and Eli would know that "add Halvard flag" meant a Norwegian flag. Eli was brilliant in thinking of this! This was the trick and he had come through it fine – he hoped.

Soon he had the pieces arranged.

"meet" + "in" + "Berlin"

"Septem" + "ber" + "six"

"Zoo" + "bear" + "exhibit"

He cheered! He read that as meaning "Meet me in Berlin [on] September sixth [at the] Zoo['s] bear exhibit." Yes? September was a while from now, but he was overjoyed to have found this all out.

"Time for me to go," he said to the empty walls. There was no reason to pack anything – it was just him and the broken up cube.

"But what if there's more?" he wondered. He looked at how the two completed cube faces would line up three-dimensionally had he not taken the cube apart. He saw that the top rows for each of the two flags fed consistently into the cube face that would be above them. This led him to ponder whether every side might contain more messages. Again he was filled with excitement.

Since he already had five pieces figured out for the cube's top face, he assembled the remainder in record time.

"write" + "morse" + "code"

"yes" + "on" + "bench" (Eli's underlined "yes" – which he had first seen two days ago - fell into place!)

"and" + "fly" + "away!"

He continued, then, by reassembling the entire cube. All the edges matched up. But there were no more messages. Eli was a genius!

With his left foot he scattered the pieces across the floor. Growing wings he flew up the elevator shaft, out through the top of office building he had been hiding inside, and took off across the dark Kiev city sky, heading towards Malaya Zhitomirskaya Str.


	9. Chapter 9

First, a couple of translations for you.

"gullet mitt" or simply "gullet' - "golden one", as a term of endearment

"vesla" - "darling" or "Sweetie", again a term of endearment

"vennen" - "friend"

"mamma" - "mama"

**January, 1974. Norway**…

Harsh red moonlight washes through the ruined forest. Around me is a scarred and burnt mesh of blacks, ashes and browns. Tall columns of brown smoke shift silently to and fro marking where trees once stood. I make my way over the burnt forest floor, searching. I need to find my way home. My knee grinds roughly into….

The caress of two fingers causes me to open my eyes. They are moving lightly through my hair. The smoke-filled forest is put on pause. A long sleeved arm extends from somewhere, bringing a hand and fingers over to my waking head.

Clean white sheets surround me and I feel a pillow supporting my head. Such comforts feel nice, but I am not used to them.

A voice, a woman's voice, is talking quietly. The words are queer. I realize she is reading. Her fingers drift out of my hair and trace a series of small circles on my cheek. Her voice continues reading aloud, unbroken. It is my secret that I am awake; she doesn't know.

I try to speak but cannot. My mouth forms what I want to say but there is no breath. "Mamma" I manage in slow motion but without any voice to it. My lips, cheek and jaw silently mouth it.

The two fingers stop their aimless twirl on my cheek. They have felt the movement. The reading stops and I sense her move towards me.

"Mamma," I try again – It is a long drawn out mouthing of what I want so desperately to get out. _I have found you._ Relief sweeps over me.

I slide back into the vision of charred branches and stumps. I know mamma is here. I renew my stumbling over burnt logs. The urge to find my home is confusing. I don't need to do that anymore. I have found mamma. Yet all I can see are brown smoky columns, ghosts of what used to be, drifting in the moonlight.

Her voice resumes reading and I can hear her as I look about the forest. I will find my mamma. She is here.

…

I open my eyes. There is no dream in my head this time, and I am ready to wake up. I am on my side, just as I like to sleep. My knees are pulled up and my hands are lying between them. A simple but beautiful blanket is pulled up just short of my chin.

The arm and hand return but are wearing a different sleeve. And the fingers are holding a cool, moist washcloth. I wrinkle my nose away from it even though the moisture feels good.

"Ohhh, I see you! Good morning _vesla_!" says mamma.

Again I want to speak but have no voice. I try to draw air into my lungs but nothing moves. When I first wake up I am so little.

My eyes find hers. I cannot focus but I can make out her face and I lock on to her eyes.

Finally I can breathe in. I hold it and then push it slowly back out and try one more time. Still it is not much more than a whisper: "_mamma_!"

"_Gullet_, it's Aldine," mamma replies with a smile. "But you can call me mamma if you want."

I think about that for a while. It doesn't make sense at first. But then slowly it does.

"I see you in there_, min vesla_. Just lie there and don't try to move. You have been asleep for a long while!"

I try to draw in more air. My throat and trachea wheeze.

"Oh my goodness!" she exclaims and pulls back the washcloth. "We have to get you some water right away!"

Arms return. One lifts my head. Another brings me a cup of water. I sip at the water. It's just what I need – for now. My head is returned to the pillow and the arms retreat.

"Sweetie, do you know where I found you? I missed you in November but thought to go look for you again in early December."

I start to remember.

"And there you were! Good heavens, darling. You, min vennen, were in a knot under a pile of snow, leaves and branches in the back corner of the family plot. Just inside the iron fencing. Honestly, you about scared the life out of me."

I lie there quietly taking all this in. I can now focus on Aldine's face and it is as gentle and caring as ever. Could it be that perhaps it is even more so?

"I thought the worst. But you were alive - and breathing! I feared hypothermia for a long time but with you I know enough …"

_Do I tell her the truth? How can I?_

I had come too late to the farm this fall, passed my normal time to meet up with Aldine. But this year I didn't care. I was tired and beyond caring. Settling onto Halvard's marker I sat for hours looking at the little farmyard below at the foot of the hill. What is the point of a life where I cannot be honest with anyone, not even myself? I asked. There was no answer. There could be no answer that was worth bearing. So I curled up with my miseries into the corner of the plot, fast up against the fencing. I decided to let the return of sunlight to this northern farm find me and burn me up. – That had been my final thought.

Her hand comes back and caresses my cheek.

I pull my hand up to my face. My fingers touch the top of hers. Hers are tender but coarse from years of farm work. But I see that mine are so clean - scrubbed clean! And I find myself looking at the cuff of a fresh nightgown. Oh! But.. but.. I look up again at her face. She understands.

"Yes, I redressed you. I could not have a little darling like you tucked in while covered with winter's worst."

And then with fear I push my hand back under the covers and down to my knees. The fingers of my two hands meet. Then slowly, lower lip trembling, I pull my hands back to my hips. With my fingertips I feel underwear, featuring a delicate elastic band around my waist - one that I know is not something I have ever owned. Truth strikes me like a hard blow. She knows. Panic floods through me. I am so small. How can she possibly know and yet love me? I am nothing …and she knows.

I go completely white. I see it in her expression. My face balls up and my dried lips curl into a sob. I hold it for a moment but then I can't. Losing control I breathe in much too hard. The sound of my dried throat is horrible. My fangs descend into place. I convulse in a fit of crying – but one that is completely without tears for I am too dry.

Aldine scoops me up, into her lap, and holds me tight. "Little one, have I not always told you how I love you? Do you think that could ever change?"

My spasms erupt with me being held tight and then me holding tight to her bosom. My anguished sobbing is the endless raspy barking of a sea lion. I am consumed with shame. That I can be nothing and not have her discard me is too much to accept. I am wracked with the emotion and still she holds me tight. In that moment I have only her and she is there for me.

I pull my knees up to my face and I bury my vile mouth between them. It is a long time before I get myself under control. Still she holds me and lets me calm down. I keep my face buried. One look and she would know another truth.

"Mamma," I try. It's not what I want to say. The hunger is coming. I actually had not intended to say anything yet. But wanting to show that I was getting myself under control and it having been the last thing I was able to utter, it is the first thing to come out.

Yet it, that spoken word, accidentally said, becomes what saves me. And her.

A silence follows. She holds me while I sit in her lap and sniffle. That last spoken word is everywhere in my mind and I suspect it resonates also in hers. This is my last tie to the present. I had settled into the corner of this family's burial plot thinking how appropriate the spot would be to end it all. And now in this kind woman's lap - Aldine's - I wonder if I can move away from that and continue.

"I have to go." I quietly rasp. "You have to take me to the forest."


	10. Chapter 10

**May 18th, 1982. Kiev**

On a rain soaked night a solitary cloaked figured stood at the edge of Kiev's Independence Square. His gaze was upon the etchings made into a bench. They had been made by the child several nights back. The scratchings were a straight line series of cuts and stabs, almost like Morse Code. He had watched from a distance as the boy had made them. It didn't make sense then and it didn't make sense now.

He shifted the rifle he was holding under his heavy coat. It had proven very useful over the last week. He had shot one of the intruders out the air with it. And shooting the boy had been, well, child's play. Heh. He laughed at that play of words.

But since then he had been alone. They had died, fled or else had become better concealed.

He moved his left hand into his coat's pocket. There he felt the little pieces he had collected, little colored cubes which he had gathered from the base of a nearby elevator shaft. The boy had been there for a good number of days; his scent was all about the place. But there was nothing else to go on.

He strained his vision into the night, moving his sight slowly along the rooftops. If either of them were alive and still around, he could not sense them.

He lifted one of the little pieces out of his pocket. Red on one face. Blue on another. "These must go together in some way," he thought.


	11. Chapter 11

**1982, Berlin, Germany**

"This is Penguin One. Over."

"Penguin One, this is Penguin Leader."

A pause.

"Eli, you're supposed to say 'over' when you're done talking!"

"So Sorry," says Eli rolling eyes before continuing. "Penguin One, this is Penguin Leader. Ooooover!"

"Are we a 'go,' Penguin Leader? Over."

"Yes. Over."

"Eli, you're supposed to say 'Penguin Squadron has the green lights lit. Penguin One we are a 'go.' Over.'"

"Whatever! Over."

Below 'Penguin Squadron' the lights of Berlin sparkled in the clear night of early September 1982. Penguin Leader had just returned to the formation, having completed the 'Penguin Target Acquisition Mission' which Oskar, oh excuse me 'Penguin One,' had carefully over-planned. Eli, the chosen Flight Commander (given a flight career of over two hundred years), had carried it out - completely ignoring Oskar's plan (of course) - and had spotted the target without any problem.

Penguin Leader, taking advantage of a wind current, glided noiselessly over to Penguin One and delivered a sneak attack tickle with her 'wingtip' to his ribcage. Penguin One, caught unawares, flinched, giggled, and nearly dropped what he was carrying.

"Hey!" Oskar managed, trying to remain airborne.

"You didn't say Over. Over."

"Ssssstop it! Over!"

"Wasn't me. Over." Eli grinned.

They glided towards the zoo.

...

They had met up in Berlin long before the September 6th date that Eli had written on the Cube. Since neither had any other plans, they had both headed straight from Kiev to Berlin. It had been a joyous reunion, as you could imagine. Since then they had toured the city, sampled the local cuisine (heh heh), learned some German, and had planned for this night, September 6th.

It had been planned on a hunch, but they had turned out to be right. The target was present.

...

Oskar had never been shot before. But it had happened. May 11th. Having the rifle bullet slam through his thigh was the worst experience he had ever had to endure. The beatings he had suffered from Jonny and Micke were nothing in comparison. Being turned had been a fortnight of anguish and nausea. Yet neither compared to the excruciating pain of being shot: having his leg snapped, losing more blood that he thought possible, staggering amounts of pain driving up from his leg like a live electric wire. That night in Kiev had been horrible. He had limped away, best he could, struggling through empty streets figuring whomever had shot him would move in and finish him off. But somehow that hadn't happened. That night and for the next day he had hidden down below the streets in a sewer pipe, living through the pain. Slowly he had been able to concentrate and get his body to heal the wound. Yet it had taken a week before his leg felt solid. He never wanted to get shot again.

...

The black-clad figure took up a position well back from the bear exhibit. The vantage point allowed for clear observation of the exhibit and he hoped to see his quarry move into sight sometime tonight. His rifles were loaded and at the ready.

It had taken a month to catch on to the Cube. He had never seen such a thing before. The things kids played with these days were remarkable! Nothing like this existed when he had been a child. The 1920s had been a simpler time in comparison to what he saw now for children. But then again he had grown up in a very different time. Poverty, poverty, and then war - that had been his life. His career had been stellar, working within the NKVD, rising to a ranking officer. During the Nazi invasion he had led a large counter-group in the Kiev area. Until one winter night when he had gone out alone to check on troop positions...

...

Penguin Squadron - named after a penguin the duo had 'liberated' from Norway last winter, depositing him on police station roof in Lulea - cleared into the air space above the zoo.

With a nod to each other they each discarded the shopping bags they had been holding. From the bags they had each taken out a cigarette lighter and a well-filled water balloon. Well, not quite a 'water balloon.' A balloon filled nearly to bursting point with T-Röd doesn't really qualify as a 'water balloon.'

...

For Eli, getting shot out of the Kiev sky had been a rough landing but little else. May 13th. The rifle bullet had traveled through one of his wings but had done him no damage. At that point Eli had not sensed Oskar for several days. He had not been able to get close to the bench but thought he could see that it had been defaced. That was all he had needed to see but that had been the same night that he had been shot. Taking what was the biggest gamble in their young lives together, he had flown away - hoping to meet up with Oskar in Berlin.

It had worked.

...

The panther got the first sense that they were close. He felt the tickle begin on the back of his neck. He lowered himself between a decorative hedge row and a kiosk and watched the entrances to the area. He bit into his lips with his fangs.

...

Penguin Leader pointed out the target to Penguin One. It hadn't moved since the 'Penguin Target Acquisition Mission.' This was too easy.

Penguin One exchanged his balloon for Penguin Leader's lighter.

Penguin Leader angled into a vertical dive, descending at breakneck speed, holding both loaded balloons.

...

The panther never thought to look up.

...

Penguin One followed three seconds behind, igniting both lighters at the very moment he saw Penguin Leader pull out and streak away from the target.

He was careful not to singe his eyebrows this time.


	12. Chapter 12

**November, 1982. Norway**….

Eli reached over into Oskar's extended fingers and gave them a gentle tug. Together they rose over top of the last forested ridge of their journey and then began the descent. Penguin Squadron glided in low, over and around stands of trees as they flew through the darkness. Below them an empty lane rose and fell across the hills of the dark, quiet farmland. With a second tug Eli guided Oskar to the right. They banked into a short driveway that led to one of the little farms.

The farm looked very typical of the ones in this gentle valley. A main house, which looked rather old, was flanked by a set of similarly old wooden barns plus a second smaller house. Fields extended out into the darkness behind the buildings. Trees, stone walls and rutted lanes seemed to surround the buildings. Lights shone from some of the main house's windows.

To Oskar it seemed like he was flying into a postcard.

Everything was quiet in the moonlight as they glided around the house's edge. Eli touched down next to main barn and looked about. Oskar came in beside him and watched his friend. There was an air of expectation dancing in his head.

"This is the gårdstun, the farmyard, Oskar," said Eli, waving around. "Over there is the føderådstue, the grandparent house. And this, here, is the main house, the våningshus."

Oskar nodded quietly. He liked the cold, crisp air and breathed it in. He was letting Elias show him around. He knew how important this was to him.

"We're going to go in over here, the fjøs. This is where they keep the livestock – mostly goats and sheep these days."

Oskar followed him into the barn. Eli climbed into one of the pens and stood among a group of goats, most of whom had been asleep but were now waking up in order to find who was visiting them. Slowly Oskar climbed into the stall and joined Eli.

"Do you want to feed them?"

"Uhh, I don't know."

"Oh please! I'll show you!"

"Okay." Oskar agreed tentatively.

Eli introduced his friend to most of the goats. If the goats knew Eli, they did not directly let onto this. Yet they did not back away either. Soon he had Oskar gently petting them and getting over his initial fears. Oskar liked the short wiry feel of the goat hair.

"Wait here," said Eli, slipping over the stall wall and out of sight. Oskar felt a little uncertain being left alone with the goats but found they were no danger. He found they were the simply curious and no threat at all. He counted eleven of them, adults and youngsters.

Elias was suddenly beside him again. How does he do that? He had the front of this shirt pulled upwards from the bottom. It made a simple pocket into which he had dumped some feed.

"Here, take some."

Oskar quickly had his hands loaded with the dry pebbly feed.

"No, that's too much. Put it back and just take a little."

"Oh. Okay." And he did. "What do I do now?"

"Open up your hand, with your palm upwards and make a cup for the food. Like this," and Elias demonstrated for him.

A goat quickly stood up on its back legs and about dove into Eli's hand.

"Oh!" exclaimed Oskar, watching with a small amount of fear.

"Look, it's easy. Open your fingers out, almost flat away from your palm. Yes. But don't spread your fingers apart! … Oh, Oskar, they're not going to bite your hand."

Oskar tried again. One of the adult goats picked up the movement and put its head into Oskar's hand. Oskar winced when he felt the goat's mouth taking the feed but soon grew used to the sensation. He gained a smile and was soon grabbing more feed from Eli's shirt.

"Woah, you've got it!"

"Can we feed the sheep too?" He could hear some of them moving in the neighboring stalls.

"We better not. They spook pretty easily and are not used to nighttime visitors. Let's stick with these guys."

And so they did.

Soon the feed was gone, eaten up. The goats took to sniffing their empty hands and then checking their trouser pockets for more. One of the little ones put his forehooves up on Eli's waist with the intent of checking out his shirt –where the feed had previously been. It took both boys to get the little guy under control and remain with all four hooves back on the ground.

"Okay, let's check things out back." said Eli.

Oskar crossed his fingers. He knew this was big.

"Eli."

"Yes?"

"Do you think we can sleep inside here tonight?"

Elias rolled his eyes. Oskar was the greatest friend he could ever have, but he was not an outdoors kind of guy. Wishes for a comfy bed always won out.

"Sure, let's go for that."

Oskar followed Elias back over the stall wall and out of the fjøs. They then flew in a low angle up along a pasture towards a stand of trees and a low iron picket fence. Oskar let Eli get ahead of him.

…

Aldine had been quietly waiting with little Eva for about half an hour. Eva had spent some time tonight and last night playing "Where am I now, grandma?" and this was continuing with glee. Eva's white socks and hat gave her away at every turn but Aldine knew not to let on. She sat on one of the family grave markers and pretended to have to search the darkness keenly for any hint of where Eva might be hiding. "Where are yoouuuuu?" Aldine asked into the night, pretending to be a bit alarmed and looking entirely in the wrong direction. Eva, hiding a short distance behind her and to her left, could not suppress a small giggle.

Suddenly the little elf was there amongst them. Where she hadn't been there one moment, she was the next, and right in front of Aldine.

"Hi," Eli said gently to Aldine.

Aldine could feel the excitement rushing off the child. Nearby Eva dropped her mouth open in amazement and dumped herself backwards into the frozen grass. "Oh.. Oh!"

Eli climbed into Aldine's lap and gave her a hug.

For Aldine the moment was one to be remembered for all time. For the last years this once vibrant pixie had become so withdrawn, haunted by something beyond her ability to see and understand. But tonight all that was missing. There was a strength and presence in the little elf that hadn't been there since, well, since Aldine was about Eva's age.

Aldine gave over completely to the hug and hugged the elf back. Could this be for real?

"Who is this, mormor? (grandmother. to refer to your mother's mother)

There were many fun words the family used to describe Eva. "Shy" was not one of them.

"Oh, this is a friend of mine. And now she is a friend of yours."

Eva strode towards them.

"My name is EVA. What's yours?"

"My name is Eli. Pleased to meet you, Eva."

"My mamma says mormor Aldine should not bring me here at night. But she does! And. And. And guess what we do? We play games. In THE DARK! Does your mamma tell you the same thing, not to come here in the dark?"

"Oh, well, um, yes, she does."

"Then you go home."

"No, you go home."

"No, I got here first."

"Well, only if you can catch me!" And Eli stuck her tongue out at Eva.

"_mormor_, she's not very polite!" announced Eva, but with a smile.

Eli winked at Eva, leaped out of Aldine's lap towards her, whisked by her whispering "come on!" and dashed into the darkness.

Eva took off after her.

Aldine watched the two forms disappear off and around the interior of the family plot. The wrought iron fencing would keep them from getting too far away. She hoped. Old Halvard sat beside her, although she would never know. Together they watched the two children racing through the darkness, giggles from them both streaming into the night.

Then Aldine saw something new. On a grave marker right in front of her, previously blocked to her sight by the little elf on her lap, sat… another.

"Hi" said this new pixie.

And it all, everything, made sense.

# # #


End file.
